NonVerbal
by CycloneT
Summary: She was too smug for her own good. He normally liked a smug and smiling Stella Bonasera, but when that smugness was directed at him he wasn’t quite so fond of it. [MacStella]


Title: Non-Verbal  
Author: Cyclone  
Rating: PG  
Summary: She was too smug for her own good. He normally liked a smug and smiling Stella Bonasera, but when that smugness was directed at him he wasn't quite so fond of it.  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.  
Notes: This be fluff. There is nothing substantial at all about this fic. I've just missed Mac and Stella so I dusted them off and brought them out to play for a while. For Kate, who despite her best efforts at corrupting me with delicious Mac/Stella badfic, still found time to nag me on a daily basis for some normal fic. 

xXx

One of the things that Mac Taylor admired about Stella Bonasera was that she had the ability to walk into any room like she owned it. It didn't matter if it was a blood-spattered crime scene or a grand ballroom, as soon as she entered it, it was hers. So when she walked into his lab and immediately took ownership he barely even registered the loss. What did register was the light scent of her perfume and the cocky strut of her hips as she practically waltzed over to him and leaned casually against his workstation.

"Problem?" he asked.

She grinned. "Nope."

He waited for her to state her business but when she remained silent he decided he may as well step into her trap and get it over with. "So you're here because . . ."

"I'm here to collect."

"Collect what?"

"What you owe me," she replied, moving behind him and stirring up another waft of perfume.

"Stella, you're not making any sense. What do you think I owe –" he broke off when his attempt at rotating the chair to face her were thwarted by her smoothly turning him back around. "You know, this would be a lot easier if I could actually look at you."

"You don't need to be looking at me for this, Mac."

He was starting to have second thoughts about walking so casually into her trap. Actually, he was having second, third and fourth thoughts, because although he couldn't see her, he knew that she was up to something. And when Stella was up to something it usually meant some kind of trouble for him. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"I thought we had a pact."

"We did. Until you broke the terms and then all clauses became null and void."

"I broke the terms?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"You know what you did."

He thought back over the mornings events. They'd arrived at work. Together, but separate. She'd entered the building first. He'd pretended to catch up with her in the elevator. They'd exchanged _good morning, how are you's_ for the benefit of the other occupants who were completely oblivious to the two of them. They'd exited at their floor. They'd made irrelevant small talk as they walked down the hall. He believed the weather was mentioned. He'd nodded to Danny in passing. Stella had smiled. As far as he was concerned, he hadn't said or done anything to warrant what Stella was doing now.

Even though she couldn't see his face, she waited through his thought process in amusement. "You really don't know what you did, do you?"

"I have no clue," he admitted.

"Oh, this is too rich."

She was too smug for her own good. He normally liked a smug and smiling Stella Bonasera, but when that smugness was directed at him he wasn't quite so fond of it. Especially when he didn't have a clue as to what had warranted it in the first place. "Why don't you stop that and enlighten me?"

"When we walked in earlier. . ."

"Yes?"

"You had your hand in the small of my back."

"Yes?"

"Guiding me out of the elevator and down the hall."

He didn't get it. That was something he did every day. There was nothing even remotely deal-breaking about that. Stella was clutching at straws. "You're clutching at straws, Stella."

"Says the man who's looking down the barrel of a gun."

"There are no guns here. Just you and an over-active imagination."

She leant down and spoke directly into his ear. "Face it Mac, you did the crime, now you have to do the time."

He wasn't going to be intimidated by her confidence. He knew that he hadn't broken any terms. As far as he was concerned she was the one who was threatening their pact with her current behaviour. In fact, if she kept doing what she was doing then the odds of someone walking into the lab and discovering their secret were higher than the odds that he'd already doomed them to eternal office gossip. "You've got nothing," he said with the confidence of a man who firmly believed that he was in the right.

"Really? Think about it. It's an intimate touch, Mac."

"No it's not. It's just . . ." He thought about it. Okay, so in some instances it could possibly be construed as intimate. But not in this one. He'd only guided Stella out of the elevator and towards the lab. That was all. Nothing more than that.

"Just what?"

Chivalrous. Polite. Attentive. Gentlemanly. Gallant. All the things his father had taught him to be in regards to women, all the things Stella professed to like.

"Would you touch Aiden like that?" she pressed.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because . . ." he floundered. Because Aiden's back didn't hold the same allure that Stella's back did. Because it would be inappropriate for him to touch a female member of his staff in the small of her back and keep his hand there for the duration of the hallway. And because . . . oh. The duration of the hallway.

"Exactly. As the first to crack, you owe me a dinner."

He frowned. He'd only agreed to the terms of the pact because he'd thought for sure that Stella and her touchy-feely nature would have let the cat out of the bag long before he did. A lapse like the hallway was not like him at all. But then again, Stella had the ability to bring out all sorts of behaviour in him that he'd thought long dead. He shook his head in good-natured defeat. "I didn't even realise I was doing it."

"If anyone had been paying attention, Mac, they would have been left with no doubt that we're on very intimate terms. You could have given the game away with that one little touch."

"Okay, I concede. You win. Dinner it is. Now would you stop doing that before someone sees you and really does figure it out?"

Stella stopped kneading his shoulder muscles and leant down behind his ear again. "Somewhere nice, I think. I feel like dressing up."

End.


End file.
